


Thank You

by DemonSquipster



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Musical, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, This Wasn't Meant to be a Ship Fic, Veruca's Nutcracker Sweet, Willy Wonka the Murderer, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 07:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSquipster/pseuds/DemonSquipster
Summary: Rupert Salt lost his daughter on the fateful day he stepped foot in that factory. He wants to bring Wonka's factory down, crashing and burning, with the man in it himself. Eugene Beauregarde stops him - and becomes Rupert's shoulder to cry on.





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how you found this fic, but oOF. I'm sorry for the proceeding letters arranged in certain orders to form words. 
> 
> Everyone needs more angst and new ships in their lives.

There was the chocolate covered boy, walking alongside his mother. The violet girl, bouncing and chewing gum, walking alongside her father. The stretched-out boy, flailing about, walking alongside his mother. Then there was the daughter-less man, practically trying to hide himself in his fur coat.

He no longer heard the cries of "I want this!" nor "I want that!" He'd brought young Veruca here, to make her happy. He enjoyed seeing that joyful smile on her face. Now, he'd never be able to see that again. 

Willy Wonka had taken that from him.

He remembered those human-sized squirrels - which never should have existed - with their beady, red eyes. He remembered as they grabbed Veruca, and threw her around. He watched her thrash around in one of their arms, yelling for help. He'd tried, but he couldn't get to her before...

His heart clenched in his chest.

Listening to Wonka flirt with him near the beginning of the day was fine, watching the German boy fall into the chocolate river was even amusing. Seeing what happened to the 'Queen of Pop' unnerved him a little, wondering which of the kids was going to be next. 

He never would have expected Veruca would have been the next victim. 

Rupert had tried everything he could to keep her out of danger in the factory after Violet's disaster, and he selfishly hoped the factory would have chosen Charlie or Mike as its next victim.

Perhaps that's why this happened to her. It was his fault- no. It was  _his_ fault. Wonka's. Wonka had killed his little daughter. Every part of him was screaming not to turn back around, not to go bash Wonka's unfairly attractive face in with his bare fists. He could imagine that happening, and Wonka thrashing as hard as Veruca did, screaming in  _terror_ as loud as she did-

He couldn't. 

His salt company be damned, he couldn't spend time in an American prison for what happened to her. 

Something in him snapped, and the sturdily-built man shrugged out of his coat. It fell to the ground dramatically. He turned around, and started running back towards the factory. He made it to the closed doors, and banged his fists on the door, yelling. Yelling for Veruca, yelling at Wonka, just  _yelling._

She was all he had left, and now he only had himself. 

He crumpled to his knees, and the tears started pouring. He'd tried holding them in, but the plane ride to Novosibirsk would have taken too long. He knew he would have broken down before then, but not in front of everyone. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see who it was.

He met the eyes of Eugene Beauregarde, and his violet daughter standing next to him. He could see the Teavees and the Gloops not that far back. He wiped his tear-filled eyes, trying to act like his breakdown hadn't just happened. He stood up; the slightly shorter man's hand falling by his side. Eugene pulled a card out of his pocket, and extended it to Rupert. "We signed that contact, saying we can't talk about what happened in there to outsiders. Since we," Eugene laid a hand on Violet's shoulder, "were there, that doesn't make us outsiders, right?" 

Rupert smiled a little at Eugene, the first smile he'd given all day. "Thank you," he replied in his thick accent, and nodded. 

Wonka hadn't even seemed fazed at the least when Veruca died- got  _torn apart_ by those squirrels. Eugene had, and Rupert had to be grateful for that. 

Everyday seemed to get slightly easier, with the nightly phone calls from Eugene, relieving him of his grief and guilt. 

He'd paid for the plane tickets for Violet and Eugene to come from Beverly Hills to Novosibirsk; for Veruca's funeral. Even if they hadn't really known her, he wanted more emotional support. 

Rupert knew how dependent he'd become on Eugene, but he needed  _someone_ to comfort in these trying times.

"You didn't have to buy those tickets," Eugene had said. Rupert had more money than he knew what to do with, now that he wasn't constantly buying things for Veruca. He'd been donating to charities, but his salt business was more successful than he ever realized. 

Rupert'd even tried funding their bubble-gum boutique, but Eugene didn't want to take advantage of Rupert and his vast amount of currency. He couldn't deny that ruples was the main form of currency he had, and of course, Violet and Eugene couldn't start an American boutique with Russian money. Rupert did have American dollar bills too; and he felt he had to repay Eugene for all of the support he'd provided. 

He didn't even know where he'd be now if he hadn't had that outburst.

'Thank you' was what Rupert mainly said to Eugene. That's how it was with Veruca too. _"I love it, Daddy! Thank you!" "No, thank you, Veruca."_ Over time, she stopped saying thank you. He never did.

He supposed it was his own little way of saying 'I love you.' 


End file.
